I've just ran 22.05 miles, some of it was cross country - wet and very muddy - and about six miles of it was up hill. My software reckons it was the equivalent of running 24 miles on the flat.

I ran it with Mrs Tosh and a sponsee; all of us are running a marathon next month. Mrs Tosh is a proper runner, so often she was far ahead while my sponsee and I had an A.A. meeting on the run. How cool is that?

I'm feeling very tired though, a little bit spaced out, my feet are sore and my legs are tired; but I feel absolutely marvellous; a far cry from feeling like I felt when I had my last drink which was like someone 40 years older than my actual age. I've also stopped smoking and lost nearly two stone (that's 28 lbs for you 'Mericans).

And all on a Saturday morning when traditionally I used to wake up with a wet bed and a hangover that'd kill a normal drinker.

I'm just waiting for Mrs Tosh to get out the bath, I'm going to wash, then spend the rest of the day eating.

Jus' thought I'd share! I'm feeling rather chuffed! Thanks A.A..

Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come.” Rumi (No sniggering from the sex addicts)

I calculated a 22 mile route, but in reality it was about half-a-mile too far, so when my watch beeped '22 miles', I stopped and walked the rest of the way home!

The sun is shining, here in the UK, and I have a strong sense of gratitude today; it's wonderful. This evening I'm off to listen to my daughter sing carols and then I'm off to a meeting.

Thanks, A.A.; I'm really enjoying the journey.

@Marc, conventionally we still tend to use stones when it comes to how heavy we weigh for some reason. And feet and inches for how tall we are. Everything else is metric, apart from eggs, which are still sold by the half dozen; oh and beer (not the dishwater you 'Mercians claim is beer); that's still sold in pint glasses.

Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come.” Rumi (No sniggering from the sex addicts)